


Oikawa Tooru's Theory of Sunflowers

by sugarby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: “Sunflowers. They’re big and tall and look scary to some people but they’re loyal. No matter what, they’re always looking at the sun.”Hajime turns his head to him. He doesn’t know it yet but that introspection, so precious and romantic, will embody everything that they are now and well into their future.(OR: Tooru likes to think of himself as the Sun and that Hajime will always look at him; that they will never leave each other).
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 49





	Oikawa Tooru's Theory of Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to rewrite this for the longest time! ❤

**Twelve**

It's August, Summer and they're young.

The hum of cicadas on trees marks this time of the year. It's too hot for any ideas about close proximity; the kind of hot that makes rain and winter hard to picture clearly.

Still Hajime finds himself wiping his sweaty forehead again and again and never pulling his arm away from Tooru's, letting their skin stick them closer together.

Tooru’s hand, clutching Hajime’s, is trembling.

Hajime squeezes his hand in the promise he won’t leave him. That he'll be alright. “What’d you say you found?”

Wakatoshi points a thumb back over his shoulder. Parting trees over a stone path that leads up to a creak and isn't far from his grandparents' farm that they're visiting for the season. "I spotted a Great Purple Emperor up there."

"No way! For real?!" Hajime isn't the type to be easily awed but it's big and purple and he's tired of catching only common butterflies in his net. He can take its picture. Maybe it'll land on his hand and let him get a closer look!

Tooru pulls on his arm like he's trying to bring him back down to earth, watching his best friend practically hovering off the ground with starry eyes. _'Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Hajime, don't leave—_ _'_

Wakatoshi says, "Let me show you. If this is still a treasured hobby of yours, that is." 

Of course it is and they both know it. 

Wakatoshi's awfully high confidence aside and as distant as the two of them are, they're friends after all.

All three of them. They've camped out in each other's back yards, celebrated birthdays and swapped ambitions and secrets in a tree-house. For all terms and purposes, they are by definition friends.

It's just that Tooru isn't _entirely keen_ on Wakatoshi. 

Tooru’s hand shakes even more.

He can’t hold it in any longer.

He tugs Hajime along in his escape backwards into the thick field of Sunflowers. Too tall and too thick, they can’t see over or between them. Tooru moves them aside with his free hand and keeps running.

It’s okay as long as Hajime is with him. That’s what he decided a long time ago and will never, he’s certain, think otherwise.

They’re two young boys lost in an abundance of buttery yellows and umber browns under the summer heat; a unity of youth and innocent promises against the world.

Hajime doesn’t know what’s got his best friend so riled up but he’s often weird like that, just doing and saying whatever with little to no or too weird explanation. He lets himself be pulled further into the field, listens from behind to the weight of Tooru’s breathing against the patter of their boots hitting dirt in synchronization.

Tooru eventually slows in the center of the field, a generous circular space of trimmed grass and a winding dirt path.

He crouches over in heavy pants, trying to catch his breath.

“Idiot.” Hajime calls him with no genuine malice. It’s basically a nickname at this point already with how often he’s used it. He says it nearly all the time and Tooru Oikawa will never really be as stupid as it implies. “What the heck was that?”

Tooru’s still breathless but he manages to attempt an innocent grin and shrug, like this was all just a spur of the moment.

“Idiot.” Hajime repeats.

A nice breeze blows against their sticky skin. With one look, a silent but clear as day conversation takes place and they both lay on the grass to get their bearings and just chill.

Hajime tries counting all the Sunflowers in his view and gives up when he counts the same one thrice accidentally. This field is more like an army! “These things are _everywhere_.”

Tooru laughs, light and charmed, “No kidding.” He points upwards, “The sun’s out.”

“No kidding, it’s Summer.”

Tooru sticks his tongue out and this time he gets to hear Hajime’s laugh. He rests his head on crossed arms and marvels at the view with a smile, “Sunflowers. They’re big and tall and look scary to some people but they’re loyal. No matter what, they’re always looking at the sun and the sun.”

Hajime turns his head to him. He doesn’t know it yet but that introspection, so precious and romantic, will embody everything that they are now and well into their future.

“In other words,” Tooru’s sitting up now and looking very serious. Expectant. “You can’t ditch me for Ushiwaka!”

Hajime lifts a brow, starting to get it now. “Is that why you grabbed me and took off? And why you shouted something so fucking bizarre?”

Asking their childhood friend whether or not he was raised in a barn isn’t so accusing when it’s partially true; every summer, Wakatoshi Ushijima comes up here and stays with his grandparents.

“It was valid and I’ve always wanted to say that to someone!”

“That’s kinda twisted.”

Tooru only grins though, “Did you see the look on his face?!”

“You see the look on _yours_ earlier? When he picked up a cricket, you fucking screamed.”

“Don’t bully me, Iwa-chan!”

“My ears are still ringing, I might go deaf.”

“No!” Tooru exaggerates the welling up of his eyes, pushed through tears threatening to tip over, “I don’t want you to lose your hearing! It’ll be terrible if you can never hear my voice again!”

Hajime rolls himself, plus his eyes, over the other way, metaphorically blocking out the noise Tooru’s making. Even still, it’s peaceful out where they are. Calm. Time feels slower. The sun is hot and the Sunflowers are swaying and the two of them…

Well, they’re just kids. They can’t know about what might be or even what they’ll have for breakfast tomorrow. 

But they can wonder about tomorrow.

Today they’re holding hands and running through a field of Sunflowers. But tomorrow? Hajime goes ahead and thinks about it for just a little bit while Tooru shakes him, _begging that he open his eyes and listen!_

Hajime’s no psychic but he imagines they’ll be a lot like this even tomorrow and the next one after that.

* * *

**Seventeen**

Tooru was cast as one of the flowers in a group for spring and he was alright to sing and dance with everyone else until. A week later into rehearsals though and he stops; stops dancing and singing with enthusiasm, then altogether and the entire theater synergizes, choreography and singing halting and spirits plummeting.

On the stage under a spotlight, he said he wanted to be the sun; the sun who is always admired by the sunflower, which two other classmates beside him were also in costume as.

The time they lost themselves in a field of them, Hajime should’ve drawn a connection to it. He thought his best friend was just being dramatic, finding an excuse for extra attention to compensate for not being the lead of the play. Everyone else thought pretty much the same thing.

They didn’t see more than a kid with ambition; they failed to see it was his soul crying out for something he can treasure that's lasting.

In his defense, although kids don’t often envision themselves hitting the high stakes beyond princesses, dragons and adventures, he knew their flimsy school production wasn’t it.

That ambition of Tooru’s hasn’t changed over time. No, it only fuels the character he develops into their third year of high school and the ones who have to suffer with it are his best friend and their volleyball team—of which he is the captain.

Exhausted from practice and chugging back water bottles, the team isn’t in any kind of mood for it today.

Tooru takes center stage in the Aobajohsai gymnasium with spread arms, “Gentleman! Friends! Teammates! My family!” He ignores the chorus of protestant groans. “I’m very proud of you! We played a great practice match today! It warms my heart to see you all so committed, to see each and every one of you grow stronger!”

He sniffles and runs a finger under a dry eye. 

No one so much as blinks.

“Just know in your hearts that I,” he holds a spread hand to his chest, “Your _amazing_ Captain, will live on in you even if we are apart because,” he spreads that arm out to the gathered teammates, “All of you are my dear sunflowers!”

The first and second years glance around at each other for a moment before they all reluctantly clap to be polite. They kind of get the gist of what he means.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are amusing themselves with humming the twilight zone theme tune. Tooru lives for that though, the chance of other life on other planets, so he doesn’t recognize their insinuation.

Hajime ushers Tooru away to the other side of the court by the benches and sits beside him, “I already told you before to leave your weird analogy out.”

“It’s the Captain’s responsibility to lift the team up and I meant every word!”

“Idiot.”

Tooru’s lips twist into a pout and he stays quiet. He listens to Hanamaki and Matsukawa send the first and second years off home for the day while they gather the last bits and pieces of equipment to put away. He stands, planning to go and help when he’s caught by the hand and urged to sit back down.

Hajime can see it even if Tooru chooses not to say anything. He’s tired. Overworks himself then works some more all so their team can keep rising. There are days when he waits until he’s the last one in the gym to practice by himself, making sure each set and serve is pristine.

It...he already is.

“He called again.”

“Ushiwaka?”

Tooru nods sullenly, “Never bothered to butter me up this time. Just said the same old crap about how I’m strong and should’ve gone to his school and that our team’s weak.”

“The bastard.”

“Well, well, finally insulting your friend?”

“I _insult you_ all the time and he’s _our_ friend.”

Tooru shakes his head, “Nope! He and I aren’t friends!”

“Right, that’s why you still show up to his birthday party every year.”

It’s a small family gathering at the Ushijima household and they’re always invited, considered as family themselves for growing up alongside Wakatoshi. The time there on that day always proceeds with his parents and grandparents gathering around him at his cake and Tooru pouting at it, conflicted between storming out and at least waiting for pieces to be handed out.

Tooru’s excuse is, “Well I can’t let you go by yourself!”

“He’s still saved in your phone.”

“You have to keep your enemies closer, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime gives up; they’ll be at this for a while otherwise, him calling Tooru out and Tooru going through a bunch of unbelievable dancing around the truth that the three of them are, in fact, still friends even though they’re rivals on the court. It’s a bond as old as time that’s too much trouble to ruin.

But there’s always that issue between them of Wakatoshi being big headed and flat out crossing a line he shouldn’t. 

“You’re good, Tooru.”

“That doesn’t mean that _you're weak_ , Iwa-chan.”

“Thanks.”

Tooru looks offended now, scoffing a little and taking on an unusually serious look, “My loyalty to you will never need a thanks.”

There’s a punchline there or something in waiting. There has to be, Hajime expects, because the space between them is too quiet and heavy. It’s like they’re getting lost in another field now; they’re twelve again and looking into each other’s eyes on a plane of a connection so vibrant that they immediately _just know_.

They can feel each other’s hands nearing along the bench, fingers tipping over fingers and finding a space to fit into.

Tooru’s close now, leaning forward and neither of them entirely mind that they’re no longer able to tell whose breath belongs to who. “Iwa-chan, this is the part where you give me a compliment back.”

“Are you serious?”

“A little compliment goes a long way.”

“Yeah, straight to your head!”

“Come on, try it. Oh, Tooru, what beautiful eyes you have. Oh, Tooru, your skin is so smooth I could kiss it!”

"Go to hell."

Tooru laughs and nudges into him, "Only if you go with me."

* * *

Everyone has a triggering word that sets off a panic reaction. Hajime hasn’t really been much of a worrier—always figuring time will do what it wants despite his input so he goes with the flow of things. So he hasn’t considered what might be his trigger until he answers a call from an unknown number and hears three words in the same sentence.

Car accident. Hospital. Tooru.

After that, things seem like they happen in a whir. A skip of scenes from bolting out the door to maneuvering between doctors and equipment trays in a hallway that looks just like all the others, a labyrinth of white and medicinal scents.

Tooru’s always getting into trouble, it’s just usually by running his mouth. It’s never because a careless driver doesn’t see him before he’s going too fast to swerve enough out of the way.

Hajime throws himself into the room, breathless and bent over before he’s even made sure he has the right room number. It was all still a whir, the receptionist’s directions became a jumble of numbers in a headache.

“Told you.”Tooru’s voice is quite cheerful, like he wasn’t just in a near-death accident. Like he hadn’t almost just left his best friend alone. He’s beaming at the startled nurse placing a vase of flowers on his bedside table, “I knew that as soon as he heard I’d been hurt, he’d come running.”

“Idiot!” 

The nurse smiles warmly at them and fixes the creases in the bed-sheets before leaving alone in the room.

Hajime doesn’t know what the policy on raised voices in this place is but he’s sure that when he’s done, he might be kicked out. “Tell me, who taught you how to cross the road?! 'Cause they can't have had enough brain cells, that’s for sure! You barely have one!”

“Iwa-chan, I’m a _hero_!”

"Yeah, well you _nearly fucking died_ , Mr Hero!” Hajime feels he's pleading. Begging for his best friend to see sense so this doesn't happen again. So Tooru doesn't _leave_ him. "What you did, yeah, it was pretty cool but fucking stupid too!”

“I couldn’t do nothing!”

“Okay but who the fuck jumps in front of a car like that would magically make it stop?!”

“Superman would.”

"That was rhetorical!"

"I wasn't sure, your superhero knowledge isn’t—"

Hajime stomps around the bed, “Tooru, I fucking swear—” he lets Tooru scramble to hide behind the pillow he pulls out as a shield. Hajime huffs and parks himself in the chair beside the bed, his scowl staying.

It goes unsaid but they can feel it in the vibe of the room they’ve made that one of them is waiting for the other to say something particular.

Tooru has a very good idea but doesn’t say it. Instead he looks at the flourish of flowers on the bedside table, those familiar buttery petals and soft browns making him smile so easily. "Sunflowers are big and tall and look scary to some people but they’re loyal because…”

Hajime wants to wonder out loud if that ‘big and tall and look scary’ part is a reference to him--if it’s always been about him and he’s just been too caught up to get it when Tooru looks straight at him with a tender look.

“No matter what, they’re always looking at the sun.”

Hajime has to force a head turn and clear his throat, it’s too much. 

“She’s fine too, by the way. The girl I saved.”

“Oh shit, right. I was gonna ask—”

“I know. She just has a few scratches. She’s lucky.”

“You both are.”

Tooru hums agreeably. He still doesn’t say what Hajime wants to hear. “She visited me earlier. Called me her hero and said that I’m amazing.”

“Well it’s true.” Hajime was never looking to argue that. 

Stepping between a car and a nine year old girl on an instinctive reaction, even almighty forces would feel obligated to build him a pedestal. 

Tooru offers the styrofoam cup from his tray, “You want my pudding?”

“Sure. Toss it.” Hajime catches it in cupped hands.

"You can just reimburse me later.”

"Uh, no." Hajime peels off the lid and digs in with the supplied spoon.

"And carry me wherever I need to go now my leg’s sprained.”

"You can fuck off."

"But my crutches suck!”

" _You_ suck."

Tooru pouts at their playful but definite impasse and, in his perspective, compromises. “Okay, fine, just a dozen loaves of milk bread whenever I want. Day or night!”

“How about I come over there with a dozen smacks to your stupid head? What is it you always say?” Hajime gets a dangerous glint in his gaze that his best friend doesn’t quite like one bit. “If I'm gonna hit it, make sure it _breaks_ '."

Tooru snatches the call button from the table and punches it repeatedly, “N-Nurse!”

“Relax, I’m not gonna kill you.”

Hand on chest, Tooru breathes out.

“We’re in a hospital, it’s counterproductive.”

“That’s why?! Iwa-chan, you’re too—ow!” Tooru rubs his sprained arm from over its cast; he moved it too much in the excitement. “It hurts.”

“It’s gonna but you’ll live.”

“No one’s gonna want me.”

“ _What_?"

“I can’t even scratch my arm, let alone play volleyball! That’s it! I’m finished!”

“Cry me a fucking river! You’re annoyingly talented! I told you to stop fishing for compliments! Everyone knows I can’t keep your fans away for two minutes! That’s how likable you are!”

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Iwa-chan.”

“Oh, are you done wallowing now?” Hajime stands, “Can I hit you?”

“Iwa-chan! You’re supposed to offer to sit and marathon a sci-fi with me until I’m better!”

“Just say that’s what you want to do then, idiot.”

Unlike the whir of panic and thinking the worst Hajime came to the hospital with, being with Tooru is always like a series of Polaroids: classic, pretty, as clear as if it was only a moment ago and not a couple years.

The nurse from before checks in on them and doesn’t say anything about two of them lying on the bed. It’s against regulations but Tooru charms her so she leaves them to their Star Wars marathon.

There’s a fierce galactic battle happening on screen and Tooru’s voice isn’t much higher than a whisper. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

"Idiot.” Hajime says, “My loyalty to you doesn't need a thanks."

“No, you're right. I suppose we're long past the words."

Tooru turns his head and Hajime is kissed.  
  


* * *

**Twelve**

Before they were found (and scolded for wandering off), they were laying on their backs and looking up to the sky with the analogy on their minds. It was putting things into perspective.

"I was never gonna ditch you back there."

Tooru turned his head to him, listening in awe.

Hajime shrugs. The reason behind the analogy isn’t his to make sense of but the way he sees it, "I would've taken you with me. You don't really cope well by yourself.” He wouldn’t look back at Tooru then; he was shy, a youth confessing a genuine emotion with passion.

Tooru grinned, “I’m too cute to leave alone!”

“That’s not what I said, stupidkawa!”

"It is, more or less.”

Hajime huffs. "Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter either way ‘case I'm gonna be loyal to you." He knew he sounded too determined for his age but he was sure enough that even the universe couldn’t tell him otherwise. “If you’re the sun then I’ll always look at you.”

Tooru’s hand latched onto his and squeezed, welcoming and returning the promise of a bond he could treasure—that could last. He was looking at Hajime the way he had been looking at him all this time.

**Author's Note:**

> You start off certain it's about Hajime looking up at Tooru when really, it's just as much about Tooru looking at him all the time ❤😳.


End file.
